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Originally Posted by astra
Meanwhile, I start with wonder first day of the weekend with China Black - Golden Needle.
90°C, 4 minutes.
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I do all my black teas between 90c-95c. I find for my taste, that works best.
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Originally Posted by orlok
There was some thought behind the "Never Trust a Hippy" thing. All those wonderful things they promised, as outlined in your post, were ultimately never delivered.
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Well, not exactly. For the first few years it really was an idyllic endeavor, and all who were involved were deeply committed to its beliefs. We lived it. We breathed it. We believed it. We lived by the creed 'what's yours is mine and what's mine is yours. But by the third year or so, another generation was moving into it. They changed the motto to 'what's yours is mine and what's mine is mine.' Things went downhill from there. Into a tribal culture of light drugs they brought in a solo culture of heavy addictive drugs. And the communes began to dissolve. The laid back Height-Ashbury district of S.F. became a dealer's paradise, changing from barefoot girls with flowers painted on their faces to junkies nodding out on street corners.
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The whole thing just seemed to collapse into a heap of self obsession and self indulgence.
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That is exactly how it wound up... but it wasn't a collapse. It was an evolution. Different people with different ideas inhabiting the same streets.
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For me, when punk came along, I just thought "thank Christ!" and moved on to something rooted in reality and the here and now.
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Quite so. I saw a young guy with a Mohawk hair cut, colored like the rainbow. He saw me staring at him and asked me why? I told him that about 20 years before, in the middle of an acid trip, I had sex with a peacock. I was wondering if he was my son? God, I love reality.
And right now, reality is a glass of cool blue. Bombay Sapphire on the rocks!
Stitchawl